


Tension

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Episode: s07e04 Mr. Frost, F/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-03
Updated: 2006-12-03
Packaged: 2019-05-30 19:59:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15103880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: Post "Mr. Frost"-Annabeth and Leo separetely consider the meaning of the word.





	Tension

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

Annabeth’s Apartment  
11:45pm 

She soaked in the tub with the lights off, looking out the skylight at the moon. 

The skylight over the tub is what had sold her on the apartment. One look at it and she had turned and said, “I’ll take it.” even before she’d seen the rest of the unit.  
She soaked and reviewed the day as she always did. Tonight she was stuck on the end of the day.  
I must be out of my mind, she thought.  
She’s kept it to herself, all this time. Even though the feelings had come on quickly-almost immediately-she had known enough about her nature to keep it to herself.  
So although she kept it light and friendly, she also kept it businesslike. But he had “a way with him” as her mother used to say, and his side-ways cracks and crooked smile were finding their way into her heart.  
Tonight, when he’d asked her to dinner-she knew it was only dinner to him-a respite from the hundreds of room service meals he had eaten on the campaign trail. In the moment it took for her to decline, she imagined it all. The conversation, the meal, having him all to herself.   
She should have stopped right there-but she didn’t. She did what she always did-a habit ingrained in her after years of working in Communication.  
She clarified her position.   
Then she had walked out of the elevator quickly, throwing a “G-Night!” over her shoulder, afraid that if she turned and saw his face, she would turn to salt.  
For with that admission, she had done what she had tried not to do-she had let down her guard-and as she soaked and gazed at the moon, she was sixteen again, mooning over an upperclassmen.  
She scooped up a handful of bubbles and looked at the iridescent colors within. Looked deeply as if she could read her fortune there.  
“I must be out of my mind.” she said, and then blew bubbles at the moon.

 

Suite 242  
6:45 am 

While he shaved, he pondered definitions.  
Slightly annoyed as he always was when someone threw a superfluous item into his consciousness.  
He hated innuendo-but still he puzzled over it.  
Tension.  
Was she worried about the campaign?   
No. That wasn’t it. She was on top of things-and shared every tense moment with him. She did not hold back-he liked that. 

Was she angry at his flippant remarks? No, she answered him back with compliments he did not deserve. Delivered with a smile much too knowing.  
A smile that made him feel...  
The razor slipped and cut his cheek. He dropped it and picked up a towel, pressing it to the wound as his blood began to flow.   
Pressed it hard-trying to keep his hand from shaking as his brain delivered a succession of smiles, words and looks she had given him in weeks past that suddenly had a different definition.  
He sat down hard on the commode. His heart was racing. He could hear the blood pulsing in his ears.   
Not like it had in Camp David-with pain and despair-but with lust and longing and reawakening.   
I must be out of my mind, he thought, as he sat listening to his heart come alive again.


End file.
